


The world may well end (but not today).

by thatwhichweare



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Any suggestions? Running out of ideas here., Chinese Food, Kitchens, M/M, Pining, Yes kitchens AGAIN
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatwhichweare/pseuds/thatwhichweare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Skyfall. Contains spoilers for the film. </p><p>Gareth Mallory has a new job. Then he falls in love. </p><p>I would like to apologise for the utterly inadequate summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The world may well end (but not today).

**Author's Note:**

> Totally unbeta-ed as my regular beta readers have yet to see the film. Do tell me if you spot anything. 
> 
> Ralph Fiennes and Rory Kinnear certainly need more love. 
> 
> This is also the fic in which I had to sort out my scene-break sign. Go me!

His staff look rather shaken after the Silva affair. Perhaps they thought M was impervious, unlike the agents she handled, a stalwart of the MI6. But it turns out that she’s only human, like everyone else. So he gives most of them a few days off, leaving the skeleton staff behind. The governing laws of the universe prevent villainous attacks from happening too close together, so they should be safe. For now.

{&}

He manages to hold out for three days before the paperwork on his desk starts to tilt to one side. He calls Bill.

“Sorry to interrupt your leave but I really need you back here.”

“On my way, Sir.”

He’s become increasingly impressed with his predecessor. Having the energy to handle this at her age? She must have had a secret.

Perhaps Bill Tanner was the secret.

{&}

Bill is conspicuously inconspicuous. Other staff members believe that Bill is just another ordinary man in a suit but he believes that Bill possesses a quality that makes him curiously watchable. This could possibly explain why he has this strange compulsion to check up on Bill when he walks past his office.

And once he starts watching, he doesn’t want to stop.

{&}

They’re sitting on the couch in his office preparing for the next mission when Bill finally spots a pattern connecting the various incidents that has eluded their various analysts.

“It’s to do with the months you see. They’re not following our calendars. They’re following theirs.”

He really wants to beam at Bill, but that would be entirely unbecoming of him. He does have a facade to maintain, after all.

Instead he gently takes Bill’s hand, laces their fingers together and says: “I would rather like to kiss you right now. Tell me that you don’t want this.”

“No,” Bill says, “don’t stop.”

The press of lips is careful, undemanding. When he pulls away, Bill is blushing faintly.

“Alright, then.” Bill says, and squeezes his hand.

{&}

They do end up kissing quite frequently on the couch, but never during work hours. Somehow, their kisses don’t turn heated, they’re never straining for more.

He realises this for what it is and he thinks: _comfort_.

{&}

When he sees Bill wearing a rumpled suit, he knows that something’s up because Bill Tanner _never_ wears anything rumpled.

“What happened?” he asks, eyeing the creases on Bill’s lapel.

Bill looks confused, then catches on.

“The cold cracked one of the water pipes so my whole apartment’s flooded...”

“And sleeping in the office was the most convenient option.”

Bill nods, embarrassed. He knows the type. Workaholics.

“I have a spare room if you need a proper bed to sleep on.” He isn’t going to push because whatever _this_ is, it will be what Bill wants from him.

“If it isn’t any trouble...”

“It won’t be.”

 

They leave together. It’s late, but not unreasonably so, though the definition of unreasonable does vary greatly. He orders take-away in the car because he knows that they both haven’t eaten since lunch. He does this often enough at work to be familiar with Bill’s order.

“Fried rice, please. And chicken porridge.”

Bill, realising what he’s doing, looks over to him from the opposite seat and gives him a small smile.

 

After the dishes have been cleared away, he shows Bill into the small bedroom.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring anything to sleep in.”

He slides open the drawer of the wardrobe and lays a shirt, a pair of pants and a towel on the bed.

“These should fit.”

 

He stays away until he’s certain that Bill is dressed to bid him goodnight because the sight of a half-dressed Bill will most certainly be temptation incarnate and he’s neither willing prepared to test the limits of his self-control at this time of the night.

 

In the morning, he wakes up alone and cooks breakfast. Bill pads in, wearing a cotton blanket over his pyjamas and distracts him with a kiss. He tastes of sleep and mint.

{&}

Bill’s body is pale and slightly soft though he regularly visits the gym. It isn’t pared down to the muscle and bone from years of long and hard use like his own and he’s thankful for that. He palms the gentle curve of Bill’s belly to the waistband of his cotton pants and presses a kiss into thinning hair. It’s a rainy Sunday, and the world isn’t going to end. So they sleep in.


End file.
